


You Swing Me Right Around

by holdyourbreathfornow



Series: The Teacher's Lounge [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: 1920's AU, ;), Alternate Universe, Beaches, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Logan runs a speakeasy, M/M, One Shot, Patton is a detective investigating it, Roman's a lounge singer, Roofies, That you see, Virgil is his accompanying cello player, cursing, established prinxiety, gunshot wound, no one dies, nothing happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 11:30:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15436095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holdyourbreathfornow/pseuds/holdyourbreathfornow
Summary: In the Prohibition Era, speakeasies run rampant.For new detective Patton Heart, there's one in specific he's hunting:  The Teacher's Lounge.And the only way he can get in is going undercover.But what's waiting for him there?  He's about to find out.





	You Swing Me Right Around

**Author's Note:**

> This took... So long! Hope you enjoy!

The police station of Miami, Florida, was bustling and Detective Patton Heart was just as busy, flipping through dossiers and staring intently at a blackboard labeled ‘The Teacher’s Lounge’.  Police sketches of a man with slicked back hair and cold eyes behind glasses stared back at him.

 

Detective Heart had gained that title only recently, and this was his first case.  Obviously, this lead to him being determined to do well on his first case, a case tossed to him in a flash of pity from the Commissioner, nothing more than a wild goose chase.  

 

What no one expected, however, was for the case to actually lead somewhere.  As the most lenient beat cop working the streets, contacts abounded for Patton Heart.  And with a well of information at his fingertips, he was intelligent enough to use it.

 

-

 

His friend Valerie, who had almost been arrested just so the cop could hit on her, had escorted him to the fabled ‘Teacher’s Lounge’, winking at the bouncer and hustling Patton in.  Once the two had gotten in, Valerie gripped Patton by the elbow and yanked him down to her level.

 

“Do not make me regret this.”  Valerie hissed and released him, letting him stagger for balance as she vanished smoothly into the crowd to drink and dance the night away.  Patton headed for the bar, smoothing down his shirt absent-mindedly as he slipped between couples, laughing and intoxicated.

 

Patton was dressed in a skintight white tank top, a blue choker resting lightly around his throat.  He wore thin black leggings and black loafers as well. His hair was free of any hair products and was soft and fluffy.  A headband running about his head like a circlet pinned a bright blue peacock feather to the back of his head, bobbing in time with his steps like a plume of fire.  

 

He was unaware of any eyes on him as he settled down at the bar and ordered a Virgin Mary, nodding at the bartender as they slid the glass into his open hand.

 

“You look lonely.”  A voice murmured in his ear and Patton shoved down the urge to startle, turning partially to look at the stranger vying for his attention.  The man had heavily greased black hair pushed back from his forehead and a smarmy smile plastered on his face. “Why don’t you come with me, baby?  I can show you a good time.”

 

“I’m just fine alone, thank you.”  Patton drained the rest of his drink and slipped away from the bar, fleeing to the dance floor and feeling the stirrings of adrenaline in his veins as he stepped in time to the music.  He occasionally caught glimpses of the man, looking thunderous from where he glowered at Patton, but the detective ignored him, concentrating instead on the music and the fact he still needed to find the owner.  

 

Once the music ended, the song switching to something slower that was meant for couples, Patton slipped off the floor and sat at the bar, not ordering a drink.  He was beginning to look at patrons out of his peripherals when he was tapped on the shoulder once again. Turning, the same smarmy man from earlier appeared in his face, this time smiling apologetically as he held two glasses.

 

On stage, two men settled in to perform.  One, the singer, had curled brown hair and was dressed in a red sequinned tank top, white slacks, and loafers, while the accompanying cellist was dressed in a purple top, gray slacks, and black loafers.  The cellist tuned his instrument softly as the slow song continued and chatted with the singer. Once the song ended, a spotlight was trained on the stage and the cellist and singer began in unison.

 

Patton took the dink from the man and let him settle onto the stool at Patton’s right.  The two clinked glasses and took a sip together.

 

“I think we got off on the wrong foot.”  The man said and set his glass on the bar, offering one hand for Patton to shake.  “My name’s Edward, and it’s very nice to meet you.”

 

“Patton.”  He shakes the hand hesitantly and begins to rise to his feet, Edward copying the move.  “Would you like to dance?”

 

“I didn’t think you felt well enough to dance.”  Edward says and Patton furrows his eyebrows, confused.

 

Then the ache sets in, and it’s like he’s removed his glasses, except he actually hasn’t.  He can’t stand up straight, and he stumbles directly into Edward’s arms. The other man hoists him somewhat to his feet and purrs in his ear lowly.

 

“So glad you’ve agreed to come back to my place.”  He begins pulling Patton from the club, and no matter how much Patton hits his chest weakly, Edward’s grip does not relent.

 

They’ve almost made it out the front door when a pair of feet stand directly in front of Edward.  Patton rolls his head back and sees that it’s another man, dark blue eyes glittering coldly behind a pair of glasses and dressed in a black button-up, sleeves rolled to his elbows, navy slacks, and black loafers.

 

“Your companion does not seem happy.”  The man states and Edward shakes his head, plastering on a demeaning smile.

 

“My darling here has just had a little too much to drink.  I’m taking him home and putting him to bed.”

 

“That is what you claim, but I feel I should ask your partner.”  The man’s eyes shift to Patton and soften so that Patton feels like the man’s smiling without actually doing so, and the urgent buzzing of alarm in his head dulls slightly.  He knows, subconscious and bone-deep, that this man will help him. “Sir, do you know this man?” Up to this point, Patton’s emotions have been through the wringer and he doesn’t even bother trying to shake his head, instead bursting into terrified sobs and trying to pull away from Edward’s still-firm grip.  

 

“He’s just tired!”  Edward tries again, but the man reaches forward and tugs Edward’s hand off of Patton, letting the smaller man stumble into his chest, where the man curls an arm around him protectively.

 

“Then he may sleep here tonight.  Surely he knows the way home, so you may expect to see him tomorrow.”  With that, Edward skulks out and the man hefts Patton so he can stand on his feet a little steadier and not have to lean on the man so much.  “I’m so sorry, Edward’s a jackass. I’ve stopped him every time, but he keeps trying. I don’t think he recognizes me, which is why he’s so argumentative.”

 

Patton doesn’t say anything, only begins hiccuping with the force of his cries, and the man leads him into a quieter room, sitting him in a chair.  

 

“I don’t want to leave you alone, so I’ll send in some friends of mine.  This behavior can’t continue, and I must put an end to it.” Distantly, Patton registers the sounds of the door opening as the man leaves, and he is alone, the smell of beer and the taste of drugs engulfing him.  Finally, the door opens again, and he lifts his head up with more control and grace then he had earlier, with Edward.

 

The cellist stands in front of him, gray eyes bright like silver in the dark room.  He leans forwards a little and brushes the sweat-drenched hair from Patton’s forehead, leaving his cool hand there for a beat or two.

 

“He isn’t feverish.  I think he’s just warm because of how worked up he got.  Roman and I can keep an eye on him, Logan. Go do what you need to do.”  The door shuts again and the gray-eyed man helps Patton to his feet, the two stumble-walking towards a neatly-made cot in the back corner of the dark room.  The man lays Patton down, and unfurls a blanket over him.

 

And then Patton slips into a calming sleep, knowing no more.

 

-

 

Patton is much more coherent and so much calmer when he awakes, sitting up and pushing the bent feather from his outfit out of his face, eventually deciding to simply remove the entire band.  The gray-eyed man who he remembers from the haze of the previous night sits at a round wooden table, scratching in a book with a pencil as he drinks coffee from a margarita glass. Instead of making his awareness known, Patton stares at the man for a moment before he swings his legs off the bed.

 

“I wouldn’t try and stand just yet.”  The man says, not looking up from his scratching.  “You were in pretty rough shape last night. Roman and I were a little worried you would be sick.”

 

“Who’s Roman?”  Patton asks, but coincidentally, the door into the back room swings open and the singer walks in, carrying a tray filled with steaming food.  He beams when he sees Patton, awake and coherent, and grabs something off the tray, bringing it over.

 

When the singer drops it into Patton’s hands, Patton realizes it’s a buttermilk biscuit and he digs in gratefully, not caring about the crumbs he scatters on his nice clothes.

 

“This is Roman.”  The drawing man says with a smile, finally looking up from his scratching.  “He’s the lounge singer here.”

 

“We can’t forget how important you are, darling!”  Roman does a flamboyant little twirl, pausing to drop a kiss into the purple-glitter-mess that is the cellist’s hair.  “This is Virgil! He and I perform here as often as possible!”

 

“We’re friends with the owner.”  Virgil smiles at Roman’s kiss, and Patton isn’t as shell-shocked as he probably would be outside this building.  Speakeasies are for partaking in more than just alcohol, after all. But he doesn’t consider this illegal, knowing that this is one part of them they shouldn’t have to hide like they must.  “His name’s Logan.”

 

“Was he the one who helped me last night?”  Patton asks, pushing himself up from the cot and wobbling his way into one of the other chairs at the round table.

 

“Indeed he was!  It was a most gallant rescue, the brave criminal swooping in to save the innocent, like a vigilante!”  Roman’s eyes sparkle with passion as he exuberantly describes the scene and Virgil and Patton exchange glances.  Virgil rolls his eyes at his lover’s antics, albeit fondly, and Patton laughs under his breath.

 

“Well, fellows, I think I’d best be getting home.  I still need some rest after last night, but I don’t want to keep you if you’re busy.”  Virgil and Roman both go to respond when the door swings open once again and Patton’s rescuer walks in, sweeping a hand through his short brown hair.  He stands by Patton and smiles down at him kindly, and Patton goes dumb, eyes wide and a tiny smile playing at his lips.

 

“I believe these two do have things to do today, but I would be more than happy to escort you home.  Logan Vaughn, at your service.” He offers a hand and pulls Patton to his feet when the shorter man takes it to shake.

 

“Patton Heart.”  The detective introduces himself faintly, before he finishes recovering and beams.  “And that would be lovely, thank you.”

 

“Excellent.  Gather whatever you may have.”  As Patton turns to fetch his headband, Logan talks to Roman and Virgil.  “I appreciate the assistance. Be safe getting home.”

 

“You too, Teach.”  Virgil murmurs, and Patton returns, fidgeting with his headband.

 

“Ready?”  Logan questions and Patton nods silently, dipping his head to the lovers as he and Logan leave.  The last thing he sees before the door to the back room closes is the two swaying into each other like trees in a spring breeze, sturdy but happier together.  Patton’s a bit of a romantic.

 

-

 

“How long have those two been together?”  Patton questions as he and Logan walk down the streets, ignoring the raised eyebrows of those who see Patton in his attire meant to only be seen in the secretive veil of night and dim club lights.  

 

Logan turns his face to the sky, sunlight dancing across both the sharp and soft angles of his face and as Patton stares, his tongue grows thick and heavy in his mouth again, face growing hot.  Finally, Logan opens his eyes and turns to Patton. When he realizes the younger man is looking at him, he smiles and lets their hands bump against each other, not daring to do any more in the exposure of daylight.

 

“They have been inseparable since before they came to LA.”  Logan speaks like he is a professor, giving a lecture, and Patton is his student, mentally scribbling notes.  “They gravitated together in Chicago and worked their way west. Then they came to work for me, and that’s that.”

 

“That’s amazing.”  Patton whispers softly and Logan smiles fondly.

 

“Yes, I suppose it is, isn’t it?”  Then he comes to a stop suddenly and Patton very nearly trips over his own feet, trying to skid to a halt as well.  They stand in front of Patton’s apartment building and Logan tilts his head back to stare up at the very top. “We appear to have arrived at our destination.”

 

“Yep!”  Patton chirps, maybe a little sadly.  As disastrous as last night had been, he had enjoyed meeting this strange… Criminal, and Patton hates to think of Logan this way, but he speaks nothing if not the gentle truth.  He had enjoyed the antics of the singer and the cellist and he doesn’t really want his little trip down to Wonderland to end. “I don’t know if I can ever thank you for saving me last night, Logan.”

 

“It was basic human decency.”  Logan murmurs, but there’s a little thrill of pride for Patton when he realizes Logan has blushed, just the teeniest bit.  

 

“But you were the only one to help me!”  Patton hooks a hand into Logan’s elbow and tugs him a step closer, tilting his head back to beam at Logan happily.  “And I’m saying thanks!”

 

“...You’re welcome.”  They stand there for a long moment before Logan coughs and reaches a hand up to run it through his hair, leaving the gelled strands slightly fluffier in his fingers’ wake.  “If you aren’t… Totally against the idea, I wouldn’t mind you returning to the Lounge. Roman and Virgil seemed to like you well enough.”

 

“They were sweethearts.”  Patton smiles and removes his hand from Logan’s elbow.  “So you won’t mind if I pop back up?”

 

“Not at all.”  Logan smiles and reaches out, taking Patton’s hand in his and shaking it gently.  “I’m very pleased to have met you, Patton.”

 

“M-me too.”  Patton stammers, fighting down the blush that’s threatening to turn his entire face into a tomato.  “So I’ll see you around?”

 

“I should hope so.”  With that, Logan turns and walks away, Patton stuck watching him until the criminal vanishes around a building, then he exhales and slumps, pressing the heel of one hand to his forehead.

 

“Well, now I really don’t have a choice.”  Patton murmurs before whirling on his heel and jogging home.

 

-

 

The next two months of Patton’s life are spent at the Teacher’s Lounge every spare moment, his closet filling with dancing clothes and his friendship with the owner, the singer, and the cellist all deepening quite quickly too, bonds formed by all of them doing several illegal things, like being ragingly gay, binding them tightly.

 

He hasn’t whispered a word of the speakeasy to anyone else.  This is one secret Patton plans to keep that way for as long as possible, not wanting to send any of his new friends to jail.

 

Isn’t it funny how life has a way of taking all your carefully made plans and just setting them on fire?

 

Patton sits at the bar, listening to Virgil perform a solo in the background, Roman watching his boyfriend adoringly from the stool next to Patton.

 

Logan stands behind the bar, polishing glasses, and he is the first to notice when a squad of police arrive.  He grabs one of the liquor bottles from the shelf and breaks it on the counter. This startles Virgil, way up in the front, and if the sound of breaking glass hadn’t been enough to alert everyone to the sudden intruders, the screech of Virgil’s bow skipping over the strings certainly does.

 

“RUN!”  Somebody in the crowd screams and chaos erupts, people streaming for the fire exits and any exit available.  Roman runs for the stage and he and Virgil disappear, until it’s only Logan, a captain who feels he must go down with his ship, and Patton, too stunned to move.  And the policemen, of course.

 

“Logan Berry, you are under arrest for the possession and distribution of alcohol.”  The head of the squad, a bastard Patton recognizes by the name of Daniel Vorlen, steps forward and tips his stupid bowler hat at Patton.  “Detective Heart. Thank you for the assistance.” And Patton can hear Logan’s heart shattering, his soul dripping out like the liquor from the bottle he broke earlier.  

 

“No, Logan-”  Patton starts, standing and stretching a hand out to where Logan is being surrounded by the cops, their eyes locking.  Then Logan closes his eyes and turns his head sharply away, the police closing around his turned back, and the captors and quarry shuffle out.  Patton turns and sees the identical, broken gazes of Roman and Virgil. They had hidden in the folds of the stage curtains. “Ro, Virge-”

 

“He’s a cop.”  Virgil spits to Roman, and the broken thing in their gazes is ice, and they turn from Patton, too.  They leave through the fire exit and Patton is alone.

 

He stands in the middle of the dance floor, the lights still on, glass broken around him like so many pieces of his heart.  He sobs and falls to his knees, not even noticing when the glass bites into his bare palms and knees.

 

-

 

He doesn’t allow himself to stay on the ground long.  He’s Patton Heart, a thinker. A problem solver. He’s a man on a mission.  A man… Who just might be in love, but he knows he doesn’t deserve that. The least he can do is free the man who once considered him ‘friend.’

 

Detective Heart knows the prison intimately, having started at the bottom of the ladder, as a guard.  The cell door locks can be picked, a skill he perfected after forgetting his key ring one too many times.  He knows he can pick the cell door holding Logan, but he needs time and a distraction.

 

Most of his contacts have abandoned him after the Teacher’s Lounge Incident, but Valerie still opens her front door when he appears on the front step one rainy night.  

 

“I told you not to make me regret showing you the speakeasy.”  Valerie scowls and Detective Heart nods and stands up a bit straighter.  

 

“Apologies, Miss Torres.  I won’t bother you long. I need you to pass along a message.”  When Detective Heart speaks, Valerie’s annoyance morphs into concern and her arms, previously folded protectively over her stomach, go loose at her sides.

 

“Pat…”

 

“Detective Heart, please.”  He reaches into one of the inner pockets of his trench coat and produces a folded paper, handing it to Valerie, refusing to meet her eyes as she scans his face searchingly.  “If you would pass this message along.”

 

“...Sure.  Pa- Detective Heart, are you alright?”

 

“My feelings don’t matter.”  He mutters, pulling his hat further down to hide his eyes in the brim’s shadow.  “I have a job to do. The intended recipients are inside, Miss Torres. Have a pleasant evening.”  With that, he turns and vanishes off into the night, leaving Valerie to stare after him until she turns back into her home, Detective Heart’s letter clutched tightly to his chest.  

 

-

 

He spends time not working on his plan cleaning the Teacher’s Lounge.  He gets glass in his hands and knees, but doesn’t bother pulling the tiny shards out.  He’s almost got it all cleaned up when he hears the door open behind him and two sets of footsteps grow louder.  He doesn’t look up, but keeps picking up glass.

 

“Why are we here?”  Roman speaks first, and Detective Heart can hear the dripping acid in his vice so he stands and deposits the glass he held into a waste bin.  Both men flinch when several drops of Detective Heart’s blood follows the shards s they finally register the dead expression on his face.

 

“I need your assistance to break Mr. Berry out of jail.”  Detective Heart states and folds his bleeding hands behind his back.

 

“Why should we help you?”  Virgil asks and Detective Heart shrugs.

 

“You shouldn’t.  But I can’t free him alone.  I can sweeten the deal by promising none of the three of you will have to contact me again once the owner of this establishment is free.  Do we have a deal?” He holds a hand out and Roman hesitates before he grasps it and shakes it once, firmly.

 

“Patton-”

 

“Detective Heart, if you wouldn’t mind.  I’d hate to force you into social niceties.”  That phrase makes the couple lock eyes and Virgil sighs, dragging a hand down his face wearily.

 

“Damn it all.  What do we do?”

 

-

 

The prison of LA is dark in the night, which suits the trio’s needs perfectly.  Detective Heart strides the halls confidently, Roman and Virgil hiding in his shadow.  Logan’s cell isn’t far, and Roman and Virgil dispatch themselves to guard the ends of the hall as Patton crouches in front of the hall and pulls his tools from his trousers pocket.

 

Logan doesn’t stir within his cell, but Detective Heart sees his eyes flashing in the moonlight.  He can handle the forced ignoring. He doesn’t deserve Logan’s attention anyway. No, he needs to focus on the job.

 

“I’d knock that off if I were you.”  A voice mutters and Patton feels the cold press of steel, a gun barrel, pressing into the back of his head as his tools scrape against the metal of the lock and send minute vibrations up his finger tips.

 

“Hello, Daniel.”  Detective Heart murmurs and keeps working.  “Kindly piss off.” Logan snorts a surprised laugh and Detective Heart determinedly pushes down the stirring in his chest it triggers.

 

“Ooh, big words from a traitor.”  Daniel sneers and presses forward a little harder, causing Detective Heart’s bangs to fall into his face.  “I’ve been waiting for you, Patty Cakes. You knew about one of the most elusive speakeasies in LA, but you kept your dumb mouth shut!”  Seeing as Daniel pointedly thanked Patton for the tip-off during the raid, this new information propels Logan to speak.

 

“Patton?  Is this true?”

 

“I never had any reason to give my friends up.”  Patton grits his teeth as tears begin pricking at his eyes.  But he exhales slowly and keeps going, knowing that he’s achingly close to his goal, but running out of time, what with Daniel’s well-known itchy trigger finger.  

 

“Patton, stop.”  Logan hisses, walking over to the cell, but Patton shakes his head once, fiercely, and Daniel presses harder in retaliation.  “Patton, he’ll shoot you!”

 

“I don’t care!”  Patton spits and Logan startles back from the cell door just as Patton unlocks it and climbs to his feet.  Logan gets up as well and the two run for each other, when-

 

BANG!

 

Logan fervently curls his fingers into the sides of Patton’s coat, his eyes squinted shut.  Finally, he opens them and finds Patton smiling up at him, beautiful in the starlight coming through the window.  

 

“You’re so beautiful, Logan.”  Logan’s fingers spasm tighter, and he pulls Patton so much closer, until their noses are brushing together every breath.

 

“Patton-?”  And Patton’s hands dart up, nimble fingers weaving through Logan’s messy hair, and he reels the taller man in for a kiss, a fierce clash of lips and teeth.  Logan releases this broken little squeak and kisses back desperately, until he notices Patton’s fingers have gone slack in his hair. He pulls away just as Patton’s eyes droop closed.  And he falls with Patton when Patton’s knees buckle, Daniel standing triumphantly in the shadows with his gun still smoking at his side. And Logan squeezes his eyes shut and screams with all the emotions buried deep inside, terror and grief and most importantly, pulsing through him like blood and breath and life, love.  Love so hot, it burns when he opens his eyes and fixes his fiery gaze on a now-shaken Daniel.

 

-

 

Patton can smell the ocean, can hear waves.  Everything aches, bone-deep and plain not fun.  He groans quietly and fights his eyelids open, sight blurry without his glasses.  It takes a moment to focus, but he registers Logan, leaning over him with a wet rag in one hand.

 

“Am I dead?”  Patton croaks and Logan snorts a, to be perfectly plain, gorgeous little giggle that would kill Patton if he was still alive.

 

“I’d burn the world down before I lost you, darling.”  Logan swipes the cloth across Patton’s forehead and kisses the beads of moisture away.  

 

“I never betrayed you.”  Patton chokes out, remembering and suddenly frantic.  He tries to sit up but doesn’t get far before Logan presses him back into the sheets, eyes blazing.

 

“Patton Heart, I know that, but if you try to leave this bed, I will kick your ass.  Understand?”

 

“Yessir.”  Patton mutters, slightly stunned, and looks around, realizing he’s in the master bedroom of an oceanside cabin.  “Where are we?”

 

“The owners weren’t home and I needed to get that bullet out of you somewhere.”  Logan puts the rag away and sits in a chair by Patton’s bed, reaching out and taking one of Patton’s hands in both of his.  “You’ll recover well here, Patton.”

 

“I love you.”  Patton blurts and Logan smiles, leaning in for a chaste kiss.

 

“I love you as well.  Get some rest. I’ll still love you when you’re better.”

 

“I was kinda hoping we were a forever thing.”  Patton murmurs and as he drifts off to sleep, Logan brushes his hair back and sighs.

 

“Oh, trust me, we most likely are.”

 

-

 

Patton doesn’t suffer any permanent damage from the bullet.  But there is other damage to repair. Logan carries Patton carefully into the living room and arranges him in a cushy armchair, fussing over him with the same attention a nurse would focus on their patient.

 

“You should still be in bed.”  Virgil points out from where he’s curled into Roman’s side.  

 

“This is more important.”  Patton proclaims, but the other two look at Logan, who stands behind him.  The taller man shrugs, obviously defeated.

 

“He threatened to crawl in here if he had to.  This was our compromise.”

 

“What’s so important, Patton?”  Roman asks and Patton runs a hand nervously through his hair.

 

“I never gave up the speakeasy.  And I lied about being a cop, but I swear I wasn’t going to turn you in!”  Virgil stretches and leans over to grip Patton’s shoulder loosely.

 

“Pat, you almost died saving us.  We know you’d never give us up. And just know the same goes for you, okay?”

 

Patton smiles and the four lean in to a hug, which breaks up when Patton hisses in pain, Logan bending back over him.

 

“Guess we’re on the run now, huh?”  Roman asks and Virgil chuckles.

 

“I think we’ll be just fine, doll.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please lemme know what you thought! There will be more of this AU, don't fret.


End file.
